


A Beautiful Mess

by Lamachine



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Written for Shoot Week, angsty smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamachine/pseuds/Lamachine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The universe is infinite and chaotic and cold. And there has never been a plan.” When it is time, Root knows it is over, knows how this moment came to exist. She just doesn't want to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Shoot Week; a filler for these prompts: Angsty smut; switching sides; betrayal; one of them is hired to kill the other. Bonus!Prompt: part two has both bloodplay and Root topping Shaw.

Root always knew the world was made of nothing but flukes and mayhem, and so when the Machine informed her that Sameen Shaw had aligned herself with Samaritan, it did not come as a surprise. As a disappointment – and if she was honest, perhaps even more than that – but not as a surprise.

 

After all, what had the Machine offered Shaw in the course of the last year? A life wasted, stuck in an unsatisfying alias, saving irrelevant lives after work hours all while avoiding anything unexpected. The obligation to sweep every mission under the rug, to delete the memory of the thrill every night so that she could return to her useless, boring job the next morning. A normal life was never an existence for Sameen Shaw; it was a cage. A slow death.

 

Of course the Machine understood that. Even Root could.

 

While the hacker had flown under Samaritan’s radar, patiently weaving a web like the spider she had grown into, she hadn’t felt the rust that came with stillness; the pent-up energy that had threatened to swallow Sameen whole for months before she finally gave in to Samaritan’s offer. Still, Root thought of her days at Stoneridge, her captivity in the Library, and she could sympathize. Besides, how could she object if everyday Shaw made the world safer by dealing with relevant numbers again?

 

Where John and Harold had found betrayal, Root only saw the logical consequences of her own failings.

 

Samaritan coming online. The world tearing itself apart.

 

That undeniable truth followed her everywhere now, even at a cheap motel along Highway 95, deep into Maine, with no cameras in sight. She vaguely recalled, sometimes, how protected and cared for it the presence of security cams used to make her feel. These days, she ran from surveillance like a ghost, and the Machine was but a voice in her ear, blindly guiding her through darkness.

 

“Miss Jones”, Harold’s voice rushed over the fake name and she winced. “I’m afraid you’re in danger.”

 

Not counting Caroline’s, it was the fourth time the Machine had given Root’s number to her Admin, and yet tonight was the first occurrence in which Finch didn’t assume she would be the perpetrator. She smiled.

 

“Thanks for the head’s up, Harry”, she hung up quickly before she crushed the burner phone under her heel. She sighed; even though Reese and Finch were under instructions to reach her only in the direst circumstances, she went through way too many of those.

 

Someone knocked on her bedroom door and despite her surprise, she immediately reached for her gun.

 

“Not much of a head start”, Root commented as she checked her pockets for a spare clip.

 

She knew the Machine was doing its best to protect her assets, but in the war against Samaritan, to say that they were the underdog was more than an understatement. “Ready when you are”, she told Her, even though she was flying blind – it was, after all, the main reason she had picked this terrible motel to begin with. However, it was a force of habit to think that She would assist in any way she could, and so Root never ran into battle without checking in first.

 

The hacker took the safety off her gun and inhaled deeply, readying her courage.

 

“Don’t stand in front of doors like that”, a familiar voice warned from outside.

 

Root smirked as she unlocked and opened the door, allowing Shaw to walk in before she quickly secured the locks behind her.

 

“I could’ve shot you through easy, those things are like cardboard”, Sameen informed her as she surveyed the room.

 

“I knew it was you”, Root gleamed, putting the safety back on as she took in the state of her visitor. It had been pouring rain for a few hours now, as Shaw’s clothes could testify – soaked through and through, they looked dark and heavy. It didn’t deter Sameen from sitting on the edge of the bed, dripping on the sheets and on the floor.

 

“Bullshit”, the agent called, discarding her jacket aside. “Got anything to drink in here?”

 

Smiling gleefully, Root pulled out a bottle of Canadian whiskey from her bag and offered it to Shaw, not bothering with finding a clean glass.

 

“That shit’s really bad”, the agent complained even as she chugged down a few mouthfuls, “you’ve got the worst taste, you know that?”

 

The hacker’s grin only widened. “I wouldn’t know; if you recall, I don’t drink whiskey.”

 

Uncertainty and distrust splashed on Shaw’s features; a look Root hadn’t seen in a long time, and truly hadn’t missed.

 

“Why the hell did you have a bottle with you, then?”

 

Rationally, Root knew where Shaw’s worry came from; knew why it was there. It wasn’t unlike Harold’s hesitations, every time she walked into the room, or John’s exacerbated vigilance when they worked a case together. Still, after all they had gone through and all the nights they had shared together, she had hoped for more. She wasn’t trying to put Sameen’s concerns at ease when she carelessly shrugged, “She told me to grab one on the way out.”

 

Shaw’s boots created puddles under her, dark circles forming on the motel’s carpet. “On the way out of where?”

 

The Machine buzzed softly in Root’s implant then, reminding her of Shaw’s new allegiance, warning her to tread lightly. A quiet sadness flashed in the hacker’s eyes before she complied.

 

“I’m guessing this isn’t a social call, Sameen?”

 

The agent swallowed another mouthful before she replied, avoiding her eyes, “it really isn’t.”

 

The Machine and Shaw offered Root a long moment of silence as she processed the answer, adding two and two. _I’m afraid you’re in danger_ , Harold had said. _I’m afraid you’re in danger_ , and Shaw wasn’t there to protect her. This time, Shaw wasn’t here to help.

 

_The world tearing itself apart._

 

“I guess I should take back my gun, then”, she bitterly joked, holding Sameen’s stare.

 

The whiskey licked the inside of the bottle while it fell down, hitting the carpet with the softest of sounds even as Shaw reached out to Root. Ignoring the warmth of Sameen’s breath running down her neck, the hacker looked away as the alcohol silently flowed, creating small rivers that ran to meet with the discolored ghost left behind by Shaw’s boots at the end of the bed.

 

A cold hand settled on Root’s cheek, forcing her to meet with dark, strained orbs. “You know I have no choice.”

 

Root knew, but she really didn’t want to. She pressed her lips against Shaw’s as she had done a hundred times before. A desperate hope clinging at the back of her mind; that she would do so again, a hundred times more.

 

It took only a split second for Sameen to react; she clutched at Root’s side, kneading her back to urge her even closer. When she did, the hacker bit hard on her lower lip until she drew blood, and Shaw’s hiss filled the silent room with anticipation. For a moment, Root wondered if she should be begging for her life – if she was begging for her life. The thought disappeared when Sameen lifted her, spinning them both around swiftly before she pushed her on top of the bed like a rag doll.

 

While Shaw insisted on avid touches and thirsty kisses, the hacker protested with rushed punches and sharp fingernails. Through a heated battle of strokes and bruising lips, they struggled to find a rhythm, desperately ridding each other of their clothes. As Root clawed and bit, marking Shaw as hard as she could, the agent stubbornly caressed, touching the skin with an unforeseen reverence. Anger swelled in the hacker’s stomach as Sameen harvested it like the patient gardener she could become, sometimes, when Root needed her to.

 

“I don’t give a fuck about your goodbye, Sameen”, Root warned, fuming.

 

“Shut up”, Shaw ordered, but although she had meant it to be firm, the reply came out weak and pained.

 

Sameen plunged then, investing herself entirely and ignoring the whimpers from under her. She kissed Root again and again, paying no attention to the teeth that protested as her tongue fondly explored the hacker’s mouth before it moved from her lips to her neck. Shaw devotedly sucked and licked every inch of skin before her while her hands roamed around, all cuddling breasts and stroking thighs. Under her, the hacker switched from scratching to punching and back again, but Sameen seemed to take no notice of her efforts.

 

When a finger slipped inside her, Root urged her closer by pressing a firm hand on her back, even as her fingers twisted in Shaw’s hair, tugging hard. A moan escaped from Root’s lips, quickly turning into a cry.

 

Shaw purposefully ignored the pain on her scalp like the need between her legs, knowing the hacker had chosen to disregard her lust voluntarily. This time, though, she knew Root wasn’t teasing; she was punishing. She had resolved to withhold her touches to protest against Sameen’s tender strokes, in hopes that it would drive her over the edge and force her to be demanding and rough, as she had always been. Shaw refused to cave in to the impulse; any other night, Root would have won, but not tonight.

 

Over and over again, she kissed Root through her sobs, pressing her fingers deeper inside to turn the cries into moans, following the rhythm of her hips as they rocked against her hand instinctively. Shaw built up her pleasure slowly, lips fondly grazing the hacker’s scars every now and then.

 

“Please Sameen”, Root finally begged, panting, tears running down her heated cheeks. “Please don’t do this.”

 

Something blocked Shaw’s throat. She believed at first that Root was trying to choke her, but she found both of her hands still roaming her body, pulling and pushing all the same. When her eyes met with the hacker’s again it seemed to explode, sending sparks of pain through her lungs, but she didn’t have the time to wonder on what it was anymore, because Root was coming and Shaw felt she had to be focused. Had to be ready, although she didn’t know what for.

 

As she pulled her fingers out, Root choked on another cry, and this time Sameen didn’t try to kiss it away. She stared as the hacker composed herself, not paying attention to the demanding pulses throbbing through her labia or the uncomfortable stickiness of the sweat slowly drying on her skin. Barely breathing, she waited _. Ever the faithful watchdog_ , she remembered.

 

Under Shaw, Root tried her best not to collapse. She felt the thirst in her mouth, the beginning of a cramp in her left foot, the tingling of her every muscle, yet none as acutely as the pain weighting down on her chest. _The world tearing itself apart_ , she thought again. She knew well why Sameen had caressed when she should have scraped; why she had kissed when she should have bit. Why she had made love when she should have fucked.

 

Root didn’t have to look to know that there was a mess at the end of the bed. The sheets had gathered over the spilled bottle, mixed with Shaw’s clothes, wet from the rain. Root knew it was there, knew how it had come to exist. The logical consequences of her own failings.

 

When Sameen left without ending her life, Root was surprised for the second time that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that this chapter covers the bloodplay prompt. If you don't want to read about blood and cutting, I strongly suggest you skip this one.

“You did a good job on that target, Agent Shaw.”

 

She could break a man’s arm in three seconds and fix herself up for a blood transfusion with just a few stolen supplies. Shaw could shoot someone in the arm through a brick wall, disassemble a MP5K in less than seventy-five seconds and make a solid tourniquet out of pretty much anything. What she could not do, however, was stop hearing the word _number_ every time Samaritan’s people used _target_.

 

“Thank you sir.”

 

She shared the same two lines with her boss after every mission, and it made her wince sometimes, when she remembered how Hersh used to check up on her like that, during her first months working for the ISA. But this was her life now, Samaritan and its targets. She could see the road she had taken to get here, could see how she had pulled herself forward until she had reached this very moment. Could see the trail of bodies she had left behind – dead and alive.

 

There were quite a few things Shaw fully expected from that night. When returning home from a mission, she devotedly observed the same rituals every time; she’d lock herself in her empty apartment, change the dressings of her latest gunshot wounds, and then have a drink while cleaning her guns. Of course, being tased and drugged by an ongoing number had never been a part of that routine.

 

“Sorry about that...” Root apologised, sitting across her with a curious expression on her face.

 

Sameen blinked, slowly regaining consciousness. She struggled against the dizziness and exhaustion to speak. “Which part?”

 

She didn’t have to say more; already she and Root had been transported to a similar moment, years ago. Only this time, instead of attacking her in her bed and dragging her to a car, Root had tased her in her building’s interior garage. Shaw could only imagine that, from there, she had pulled her unconscious body in the service elevator and then into the agent’s apartment, where she had proceeded to tie her up.

 

She moved slightly on her chair, subtly checking how tight her restraints were. The tie-wraps immediately cut into her wrists – Root must have been pissed –, but she noticed her legs were still free.

 

Root walked over, rolling the end of a knife between a thumb and a finger with a smirk Sameen knew all too well. _Mischief_ , it screamed, and she both loved and hated that look.

 

“Have I ever told you”, she smiled as she kneeled in front of her prisoner, dragging the cold tip of the blade down Shaw’s neck until it reached the brink of her blouse, “that I love to tie you down?”

 

Root brought the knife up again, grin widening as she noticed the anticipation building in Sameen’s eyes. She placed the blade behind the upper button of the blouse and with one twitch of the wrist, popped it off.

 

“You mentioned it once or twice”, Shaw replied casually when another button hit the floor.

 

She stared as Root continued to work down her blouse, the hacker smiling yet focused. Shaw concentrated on her breathing, hoping it did not convey her eagerness, the deep need that had swelled in her stomach for a week now, ever since that night in Maine. After what seemed an eternity, Root looked up.

 

“You think you’re so strong, _Agent Shaw_ ”, she mocked, shook her head and opened the blouse. The cold created goose bumps on Sameen’s skin and the hacker brushed her fingers against it softly. “You really believe you’re going to be able to kill me?”

 

In a flash, warm fingertips were replaced by the blade of the knife and Shaw winced as it pierced through her skin, creating a shallow cut just under her clavicle. She blamed her lust; she really should have seen it coming. It was something Root always liked to do: to create a diversion. The second Sameen forgot about the knife, that was always when she’d start drawing blood.

 

“Yes”, she replied, holding Root’s stare defiantly.

 

Root smiled back. “Don’t you think maybe I will kill you first?”

 

When Shaw didn’t answer, the hacker added another cut just under the first one, slightly deeper. Sameen clutched the armrests of her chair and deepened her breathing. “Maybe”, she finally offered when the knife left her skin. “But I doubt it.”

 

Root seemed to be barely listening, focused as she was on her artwork. Under Shaw’s facade of a calm demeanor, her muscles tensed, her heartbeats ran wild. Her breathing was erratic to say the least, and her skin heated up; all signs her body was reacting to a fresh wound, or an orgasm. Shaw didn’t mind much: she was fascinated by both.

 

“And why are you going to kill me, exactly?”

 

Sameen shrugged, and her indifference was rewarded with a third cut that rushed down her chest and over the two previous wounds. She hissed and closed her eyes, only opening them again when she felt another wave of cold on her chest. Before she had time to realise that Root had just cut open her bra, the hacker had already imprisoned one nipple between her lips.

 

She relaxed slightly at the touch, only to tense up again when Root pulled away. “I asked you a question”, she started, a thumb dancing in circles around Sameen’s breast, spreading the tears of blood that had gathered at the cuts. “I want an answer.”

 

“It’s my job, Root, and you’re my number”, Shaw replied, annoyed when she mentally corrected herself. _Target_ , she thought. _Root is my target_. Frustrated, she challenged; “something about you being a threat to the program. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

 

The hacker sighed. “You’re not listening to me.”

 

She cut again, only this time she also pressed a hand between Sameen’s legs, the comforting warmth of her palm balancing out the pain of the inflicted cut.

 

“I want to know why _you_ are going to kill me”, Root asked again before she used her thumb to press on the skin right under the longest cut, further opening the wound. Shaw whined quietly, her knuckles white from the pressure as she clutched on both armrests.

 

She couldn’t see the blood, but knew it was there. She imagined it was coming to the surface, slowly, patiently. Swelling up from the inside to flow down on her body, only the cuts weren’t that deep and she’d only end up with dried blood all over, brown and crunchy and not nearly what it had been before; red and warm and alive.

 

“If you want to know something”, she started insolently, waiting until Root looked up at her before she continued her mocking, “why don’t you ask the Machine?”

 

Root slapped her then, so hard it reopened the cut on her lip.

 

“Are you enjoying yourself Shaw?”

 

The question slipped through a smile, but the hacker’s anger rushed out of her in waves. Sameen clenched her jaw, bracing for more. She wasn’t surprised when Root hit her again, and again.

 

“Are you turned on?”

 

Shaw felt the familiar taste of her own blood on her tongue and waited for more. With Root, there was always more. The hacker then hit her hard just under her ribs, right where she had been shot earlier this morning. The blow made Sameen’s head spin and she blinked a few times, trying not to lose consciousness again. The pain brought her to tears but they didn’t shed; they simply kept her eyes watered and turned the room into a blur.

 

“Do you think I want to make you come?”

 

Root looked cold and mad when Sameen met her stare, as she had been when they had first met. When she had been Veronica, and Shaw, only a pawn in her way to the Machine. “No, I don’t think you do.”

 

It was barely a whisper, but the hacker heard it nonetheless.

 

“No?”, she echoed, kneeling before Shaw again. “But it’s what you want, isn’t it?”

 

She placed a hand on Sameen’s leg, rubbing her thumb inside her thigh. Shaw looked away then, refusing to look as she answered. She thought of her blood, still making its way through her veins and down her skin, _red and warm and alive_. “Yes”, she surrendered.

 

“Then tell me”, Root whispered before she returned to kiss and lick her nipple, not bothered by the small river her blood struggling to stream down the breast.

 

Repressing a moan, Sameen closed her eyes. “Yes, I want you to make me come”, she admitted once again, louder.

 

Root bit hard, causing Shaw to cry out in pain. “Sameen, Sameen... it’s not what I want to hear”, she ran a gentle hand through the agent’s hair before she tugged hard. “I asked you a question.”

 

Shaw breathed down deeply, opening her eyelids again when she heard Root taking the knife from the bedside table. The hacker brought the blade back to her breast and remained still, the blade pressing against the skin but not yet cutting.

 

“Tell me why you’re going to kill me”, Root whispered, eyes watering. They stared at each other for a second before the hacker’s eyes returned to Sameen’s nude chest, creating one more line of red while her other hand pressed against Shaw’s labia, firmly massaging her over the fabric of her pants. Shaw gasped and bit her lip, which brought a smile to Root’s lips. “Just say it, Sam.”

 

Shaw swallowed hard and closed her eyes. “I can’t let _them_ kill you Root”, she felt something warm and wet running down between her breasts, sweat or blood or fingertip she didn’t know. “It just has to be me.”

 

The hacker set aside the knife before she captured Sameen’s lips into a kiss, gentle as if asking forgiveness for the bruises she had placed there only minutes before. When she pulled away, her fingers ran down Shaw’s collarbone with the softest of touches. “See? It wasn’t so hard.”

 

There was a trace of disappointment in Root’s eyes and Sameen opened her mouth to add something else, something she had never thought of before, yet somehow, she already knew she would have to say eventually. Root cut her off. “I don’t want your apology, Sameen.”

 

She undid the zipper to Shaw’s pants and looked into her eyes, searching for something. Sameen wondered about the cuts on her chest and on her lips, how many there were, how many would be there when the night ended. She imagined the blood drying up, gluing uncomfortably onto her skin, liquid becoming solid. Fixed. She struggled to remain still under her restraints.

 

Then, as if she had read her thoughts, Root seemingly changed her mind and rose up to her feet.

 

 “You don’t need to be tied down, do you Shaw?”, she asked while she grabbed the knife once again. “You’ll do as I say.”

 

It wasn’t the first time they played that game, and Sameen knew the rules well. She nodded, and waited for Root’s orders. The blade scraped her wrists when the hacker cut off the tie-wraps. Even though she was free, Shaw fought the instinct to massage the wounded skin, knowing that Root wouldn’t allow her the comfort.

 

“Get up”, and Shaw obeyed, the shift making her dizzy once again. Once she seemed to have recuperated from the sudden change, Root ordered her to take the rest of her clothes off. She watched patiently as Sameen struggled with the fabric, the exhaustion of her muscles slowing her down.

 

Once she was done, Shaw only stood, silent, her arms falling on both sides. “Put your hands on the windowsill”, Root ordered, and Sameen found herself taking in the sight of the city’s night sky, filled with neon signs, bright skyscraper windows and aircraft blinking lights. From the darkness of her apartment she stared, silence almost deafening.

 

Root slipped herself behind her in one swift movement. Her body pressed against Sameen’s, the belt of her pants scraping the end of the agent's back while the hacker kissed her nape gently before biting her earlobe. “Spread your legs, Sam.”

 

Shaw inhaled sharply, widening the gap between her two feet and pressing her hands harder on the windowsill to keep her balance. Root held her close with one hand on her thigh and snaked another around her, securing her in place and allowing her fingers to toy around Sameen’s stomach and thighs, creating invisible pattern on her skin.

 

Through the reflection on the window, Shaw could see Root behind her, standing with her eyes closed, her face twisted as if struggling with some dark thought. Sameen’s gaze suddenly felt intrusive and she looked down, only to notice her blood dripping from her cuts, a red stain where her heart should be. _Red and warm and alive_ , she repeated.

 

When Root slipped a finger down to rub Sam’s labia, she moaned in Shaw’s ear. “I knew you were slick”, she teased, running her thumb over Shaw’s clit while she kissed her neck once again, her voice devoid of the trouble the agent had seen on her expression only seconds before.

 

Lifting one hand from the windowsill, Shaw turn her head and upper body around, trying to reach Root’s lips, only to have her forehead smashed violently against the window with enough strength to make her wonder if she’d end up with a concussion.

 

“Did I say you could kiss me?”

 

Still, Root’s fingers returned to Sam’s cunt, teasing while her lips worked down the agent’s neck once again. Quickly, they found a rhythm and Shaw moved into it, pressing herself against Root’s body until she finally pushed three fingers inside her. Sameen didn’t repress her moan this time, and through the reflection on the window she saw Root’s sad smile.

 

Although she wanted to seek more contact, Shaw resolved on staring at the mirrored hacker in front of her, knowing Root would stop if she defied her orders again. The fingers worked in and out of her and soon the built-up energy threatened to take her over, but she focused on her breathing, trying not to come until Root told her she could. Finally, through the reflection she looked at the agent, and continued her rhythm more vigorously as she stared.

 

“Now”, Root whispered before she bit Sameen’s shoulder hard. The pain from the bite merged with Shaw’s orgasm and she clenched her jaw, trying hard not to give Root the satisfaction of crying out her name, and failing.

 

She had barely come down that already the hacker pulled hers fingers out, and Sameen almost fell to the floor when Root moved aside, leaving her cold and naked before the night sky. Shaw turned around, trembling slightly and leaning on the windowsill, and watched as Root entered the bathroom at the other end of the loft. She washed her hands quickly and ran a hand through her hair, ignoring Sam’s gaze.

 

When the hacker finally returned to the main room of the loft, Shaw had her gun pointed at her, ready to shoot. Root didn’t spare her a look before she grabbed her own revolver on the table, walked to the door and left.

 

It took a few seconds for Shaw to gather herself. Then, she put the safety back on her gun, locked the door and went for the bathroom, almost mechanically. In the mirror where Root had stared at herself only moments ago, Sameen looked at the blood spread on her chest, red spirals that fainted where Root had touched her.

 

Her number. Her target.

 

Red and warm and alive.


	3. Chapter 3

The first punch was always the hardest, Root believed, but she had never gotten to the thirtieth before. Her pounding head felt like it was about to fall off and she ducked another attack before throwing her elbow into Shaw’s stomach as hard as she could. The agent’s breath caught in her throat and Root used the momentum to snake her leg behind hers and make her lose her balance. When Shaw hit the floor, the hacker followed, eager.

 

“Don’t tell me you’re tired already,” she mocked, and saw a drop of her blood falling on Sam’s cheek. She squinted when she noticed the agent’s angry look turning into concern.

 

In mere seconds, Shaw had pushed her to the side and managed to pin her down, while Root only smiled. “Oh, is it time already?”

 

She ran one hand down Sameen’s chest, kneading at the skin where the tank top had been torn. Shaw didn’t respond with a growl as she usually would; she brushed a soft finger under a cut bleeding heavily just on top of Root’s right cheekbone.

 

“I got you bad,” the agent admitted, and if Root didn’t know better, she would’ve believed it was guilt that lurked behind the words. “We need to take care of it.”

 

Root sighed. “Now?”

 

Shaw returned to her feet, offering one hand to lift her up the ground, which the hacker gladly grabbed. “Now.”

 

The hacker obediently sat on the bed, waiting as Sameen searched the bathroom for supplies. In front of Root, the room looked like it had been ransacked, every object broken or thrown as they had thrashed into each other, struggling as if for their own survival.

 

The hacker tried to remember every movement that had caused the damage, every punch and kick that had led to now. The adrenaline blurred some moments, but others were clear; the lamp she had smashed on Sam’s back laid broken beside a pile of coat hangers she had thrown, trying to provoke Shaw into a fight. It had worked out well, she thought proudly, only there was red warm blood running down her face and it made her dizzy.

 

Shaw returned, even more concerned than before.

 

“It always looks worse when it’s on the head,” Root spoke, even though she knew it was no news for Sameen. “It’s shallow, it’ll heal.”

 

The washcloth wiped away most of her blood and she remained silent as Shaw worked, disinfecting the cut before adding gauze. She murmured something about stitches, but the hacker wasn’t listening; Sam warm breath fell on the hacker’s skin and soothed her despite the ache in her muscles and the multiple bruises and cuts Sameen had just given her. She ran her eyes on the agent’s body, cherishing the ones she had place there herself.

 

Once Shaw was done fussing over her, Root leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. “Thank you doctor,” she teased, and Sameen took the bait. She framed Root’s face with her hands and kissed her again, harder, until the hacker surrendered and allowed her to push her back on the bed.

 

“When is it?”

 

Root whispered in Sameen’s ear, panting – from the effort of the fight or the need nested inside, she didn’t know. Shaw groaned, shifting to look at the hacker. “When what?”

 

“Is it before or after you make me come,” she questioned, letting her head fall backwards as Shaw sucked on the base of her neck to leave yet another mark. “That you’re going to kill me?”

 

The agent blinked in surprise before she quickly pulled away. “What the fuck Root,” she blurted before she moved to sit on the edge of the bed, turning her back on the hacker and letting her head rest in her hands. She spoke harshly; “what’s wrong with you?”

 

Root positioned her legs on both sides of Sameen and sat right behind her, snaking her arms around her torso and holding her close. She let her face rest against Sam’s strong shoulders, careful not to disturb her bandage.

 

“There’s something wrong with me,” she questioned, one hand searching for Sam’s, “but you’re the one fucking your _target_.”

 

Shaw didn’t respond, but she didn’t move away either.

 

“You won’t tell me when?” Root almost begged, listening to the agent’s heartbeats. Her head swayed up and down with every one of Sameen’s breath and she smiled when she felt warm hands pressing her thighs closer to Sam’s. They remained silent for a while, listening to the sounds of cars rolling by, the city waking up unaware of the war they had just waged, up in the crappy apartment where Root had decided to hide the previous night.

 

When Root unwillingly let out a content sigh, something inside Shaw broke. The agent shrugged her off before she stood, quickly adding distance between them as she reached for the window. On the wooden stool, the paint chipped here and there, revealing the worn off pine underneath. She chose to ignore it to, remembering all too vividly Root’s warm breath running down her neck as she came, the last time they were together. Instead, she gazed at the pale blue morning sky when she answered; “you have to leave.”

 

This time, it was Root who didn’t know what to say. Shaw turned around.

 

“Disappear”, she continued with a cold voice. “I know you can do it, hide where no one will ever find you.”

 

The hacker rose from the bed and crossed the room, smiling sadly. She cupped Sam’s cheek in her hand, careful of her bruised lips as she kissed her lightly. “You know I can’t, Sameen.”

 

“That’s bullshit,” Shaw replied, angry, pushing Root aside once again before she searched the room for the hoodie and the belt she had lost during the fight. _The hoodie and the belt Root had pulled off_ , she corrected herself, feeling both the itch of her wounds starting to heal as well as the desire to add more.

 

“The Machine needs me,” Root insisted, staring at the agent, awkwardly standing in the middle of the chaotic mess Shaw fumbled into.

 

Sameen stopped when she noticed smashed alcohol bottles in one corner of the room, the smell suddenly making her sick as she looked up. “She doesn’t need you dead,” she argued.

 

Root sighed. “You don’t know that.”

 

Shaw muttered something angrily as she slipped on her zip-up hoodie, wincing when the fabric brushed against her fresh wounds.

 

“Are you leaving?”

 

Standing nervously in the middle of the room as if in the eye of a storm, with her bloodied face and messed up clothes, Root looked a lot like an abandoned kid begging for scraps on the sidewalk, which only made Shaw angrier. “Are you seriously asking me to stay?”

 

She didn’t answer.

 

“Fuck Root, I can’t keep doing this,” the agent confessed a little louder than she would have liked, and the hacker walked up to her with tears and a quiet resolve in her eyes.

 

“Okay,” she whispered as she gently undid the hoodie’s zipper, avoiding Sameen’s stare.

 

“Okay?” Shaw echoed, hissing when the fabric fell off her, brushing against the cuts and bruises on her arms despite the hacker’s carefulness.

 

Root pushed aside a strand of Sameen’s hair, securing it behind her ear. “Okay, we’ll stop doing this.” She kissed her then, firmly, almost as if trying to prove a point.

 

Shaw placed her hands on Root’s sides, pulling her closer. “I have to end this, you know,” she spoke like she was apologising, and the hacker didn’t want to think of what for.

 

She shivered when Sameen started pushing her towards the bed, kissing her lightly as they crossed the space, stumbling amongst the debris. The back of her legs soon hit the side of the mattress and she fell down, the shock bringing tears to her eyes once again as it reopened wounds.

 

Shaw ran her thumb just under her eye. “Don’t cry this time, okay?”

 

Root only nodded before she kissed her again, biting Sam’s lower lip lightly. As they traded bites and kisses alike, Shaw broke the embrace every few seconds, either to take off her clothes or Root’s. The hacker complied with every gesture, welcomed every touch and even roamed her hands on Sameen’s warm skin, but her heart wasn’t in it. It took a few minutes and both of them to lose all of their clothes before Shaw finally ignored her usual rule of indifference and surrendered.

 

“One,” she offered in Root’s ear.

 

“One?” the hacker repeated, stopping her movements as she waited for an explanation.

 

Shaw lifted herself up to look into Root’s eyes while she explained. “You can ask me one more question.”

 

Root smiled and kissed her hard, and even though Sameen rolled her eyes, she knew she had done well.

 

“You can ask me one too, if you want,” the hacker suggested once the agent had returned her attention to her neck.

 

Shaw only mumbled a “yeah, yeah” before she started kissing her way down Root’s chest, lingering at the breast before she licked and caressed the stomach she had punched only minutes before.

 

It was only later, once Shaw had two fingers curled up inside Root and her tongue darting around her clit that the hacker finally managed to speak between moans, “Sameen?”

 

Shaw continued moving her fingers, smiling as Root tugged on her hair, and took the time to kiss the interior of her thigh before she gazed up. They shared one short look before Root asked, letting her eyelids drop down as she whimpered; “will it hurt?”

 

Sameen kissed her thigh again, her warm breath making Root shiver in expectation. “Yes,” she answered before she bit the skin, hard enough to leave a mark. The hacker hissed and she continued, “but only for a second.” She licked where her teeth had sunk, carefully soothing.

 

Once Root’s orgasm had finished rushing over her, Shaw kissed her way up the hacker’s body, stopping now and then to caress the marks she had left during their earlier fight. She recounted every punch, cut, bite with reverence, and when she reached Root’s shoulder, she brushed her thumb against the pale mark of a gunshot wound. She breathed down deeply before she finally looked into the hacker’s curious eyes.

 

“Do you want to be Root, or do you want to be Sam?”

 

Shaw had whispered the name like she had no right to speak it, and for that Root was grateful. She smiled, even as a sob burst up her throat when she thought of the unspoken words. _When you die_ , Sameen had meant to ask, but hadn’t brought herself up to actually say it. _When I kill you_. The hacker managed to push down the need to cry that kept her from breathing right. “Root”, she replied, closing her eyes and leaning into Sameen’s arms. “I want to be Root.”

 

Despite her efforts she cried then, even though she had struggled so hard not to, and tried to tell Shaw that she didn’t mean to, that she was sorry, that she was going to stop, but the words wouldn’t come and Sameen only held her closer.

 

“Okay”, Shaw replied, before she forced her to look into her eyes once more. “It’s okay,” she brushed a tear aside, “you can be Root.”

 

The hacker smiled so very sadly, taking shallow breaths as she wiped away the rest of her tears. “And you can be Shaw.”

 

Sameen laughed, but there was water swelling up in her eyes and Root had never seen it there without a blow or a cut or a burn. She didn’t know what to do with it, and thought that was probably how Sam felt all the time. Awkward and limited. She wondered what Sameen would do to rid herself of that, and resolved to kiss her hard.

 

When Shaw came with her name on her lips, Root didn’t know if the red smeared all over her was Sam’s or hers, but it didn’t matter; she didn’t want to know. Outside, the city ignored them both as they fell asleep, a strange mess of limbs on the bed, the morning breeze patiently drying up the sweat, tears and blood shed.


	4. Chapter 4

She ran.

 

In the underground parking garage, her footsteps echoed loudly and she knew there was no place to hide. Not this time.

 

She ran.

 

Above her head, security cameras betrayed her position. The Machine warned, beeped, screamed in her implant, powerless. Her God, her reason for existence – limited. Helpless as she was.

 

She ran.

 

Her eyes filled with salted water – from the effort, she guessed, but she could not be sure –, sweat running down her spine. Heartbeats so fast, it seemed the organ was crawling its way up her throat and she thought _don’t cry Root, don’t cry_ but it wasn’t working. Three times her pursuer had come for her and three times she had let her go, but not this time.

 

This time Root knew it was over.

 

Behind her, Sameen Shaw followed like a shadow. She couldn’t hear her, and the Machine couldn’t see, but Root knew she was there. She climbed the stairwell, muscles hurting and adrenaline dizzying. Her shallow breaths didn’t help against the nausea but she knew she could push her body further. Knew it wasn’t a time for limits and reason.

 

She finally reached the roof, where the city sky welcomed her with blaring sirens. The hacker swallowed hardly; all she could hope for now was enough time to say goodbye.

 

There had never been enough time before.

 

When Hannah had left inside that car that night, she hadn’t been quick enough to warn her. There had been no farewells either, when her mother burnt the house down, killing herself in the process; there had been only empty graves and colorful flowers with meaningless words. Promises of things getting better.

 

At least there would be none of that tonight.

 

“You know I have no choice,” Sameen’s raspy voice came to her like a breeze.

 

In front of Root, everything seemed small and far away. “We had fun together, didn’t we?”

 

Despite the difficult breathing, the sweaty palms, the aching muscles, a strange euphoria settled inside her. The Machine had grown silent and she turned around, alone, hands in the air like a criminal. She smirked; she was a criminal. A damn good one.

 

Her pursuer didn’t smile. “I’m sorry.”

 

Root shook her head before she crushed the distance between them in three quick steps, ignoring the revolver pointed at her and going straight for the lips. Sameen’s cheeks weren’t dry; sweat from the effort, the hacker decided. She kissed and licked and bit as hard as she could until it meant nothing anymore. Then, she pulled away.

 

“You’ll be quick?”

 

Shaw didn’t answer. Root shifted her weight from one leg to the other, as awkward as she had been, so many years before, when she had shared her first kiss with Hannah. _More than a lifetime ago_ , she thought, and it gave her vertigo to picture the shift from then to now. From her first loss to her last.

 

“Close your eyes, Root,” Shaw instructed, loading a bullet in the chamber.

 

Root obeyed. “Sameen, I –”

 

“Don’t,” she stopped her. “I don’t want to hear it.”

 

Root wondered, for a second, if she would be disfigured. If Shaw’s last image of her was going to be this bloodied caricature of her; a lifeless corpse on the ground. Maybe the Machine knew, but Root wouldn’t ask.

 

A second before the shot fired, she heard them; signals coming through so fast, so desperately rushed that she would never know exactly who, between the Machine and Shaw, had said what. But still it came, at the last moment, at the end of her world, under a city sky that couldn’t care less whether Root lived or died. It came, and it was the most beautiful mess she had ever witnessed.

 

“I’m sorry”, mixed with an “I love you”.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this story was over but it haunted me, so I had to add this.

_The heat simmered against her skin and she reveled in the movement between her legs, a finger painfully slow moving in and out while the other hand held the iron to her breast. “It does give good intel,” she repeated, her eyes turning over in their sockets, “when you do it right.” The almost unbearable pain on her chest barely diminished when the heat source moved aside. “Am I doing this right, Sameen?” Root asked with a low voice, kneeling in front of her until her breath fell on Shaw’s thighs. “Am I?” she pinched her lightly, and Sam smirked. “It depends,” she started, but couldn’t finish as a wave overcame her when Root’s mouth licked and kissed and sucked._

 

 

She ran.

 

She rushed through the unbearable heat of Lagos first, and then through the docks of Tianjin. She drove an Aventador through the streets of Riyadh and two days later, a Barchetta in London.

 

She ran.

 

They gave her target after target and she completed every mission with the commitment of a blind devout. She traded punches and dodged knives; she escaped bullets and disarmed bombs. Cities passed by like people on the street, anonymous and endless, and she did her job.

 

She ran.

 

She had crossed so many time zones that she never knew what would be waiting for her when she’d leave buildings; sunlight or darkness. She constantly expected the night sky, but it seemed to her like it was always afternoon.

 

She only stopped running when she saw him.

 

The warehouse’s back exit was narrow and not well-lit, but she knew it was him and no one else, immobile like a statue at the end of the corridor. She had been expecting this moment for a while, now, and there it came, and there was no way out.

 

Something in the way he stood. Something in the way he stared.

 

She had let herself believe that she could be furious with him, that she could blame him and Harold and the Machine and damn them all to hell for not saving Root from her bullet. Now that he was here, she found she couldn’t. She struggled to hold onto her rage, and lost, anger hemorrhaging out of her, leaving her weak, tired, and rusty, so rusty.

 

 

_“Sameen,” Root’s voice reached her ear, crooked and weak. There was blood on the kitchen floor, so much blood, and Shaw’s mixed with hers in a puddle as she held her close. “Sam, it’s okay,” the hacker hissed and Sameen only pushed a hand harder against Root’s gunshot wound, the other aiming a gun at the door. “It’s alright,” she repeated again, more calmly, and Shaw didn’t think it was okay for her to die like this but couldn’t get the words out. “Shut the fuck up Root,” Sameen whispered instead. “John’s coming. He’s gonna get you out of here.”_

 

 

The blank white walls reflected the faint brightness of the neon lights, and led her right to him – not that there had ever been another way, Shaw knew.

 

She didn’t waver, didn’t bolt like her instincts screamed her to. She took off her black backpack and left it on the ground at her feet, and then she walked up to him slowly, his face progressively coming into the light. With every step she dropped a weapon, until she had nothing on her but her fists.

 

When he was at arm’s length she stopped, defenceless but for the muscles tightening under her sweaty skin. She swallowed hard as she gazed over his suit, clean and proper, tight and dark. One made for funerals.

 

His blue eyes were cold when he lifted his gun, and staring right at her.

 

“I don’t know if you loved her,” John started, and Sameen’s throat tightened violently at the unspoken name, “but she loved you.”

 

She heard the disgust in his voice, the hate like a buzzing behind his words. “And you betrayed her.”

 

_You betrayed us_ , he didn’t say, but she heard it anyway, louder even.

 

John had this look she had seen on him only once, in a hotel room as he stared down Alonzo Quinn from behind the barrel of a bloodied gun. His hand wasn’t shaking then, or only a little from pain and exhaustion perhaps, but not from doubt. It wasn’t trembling in that warehouse corridor either, but his beard was well-shaved and somehow Shaw thought it only made it worse.

 

She wished John had a maniac glimpse in his eyes and blood dripping on his hands. She wished things were messy and chaotic and wild, with a dozen unconscious U.S. marshals on the floor and Russians trying to get in the building. Helicopters in the sky and sirens in the streets. Instead, there was only this stubbornly faint neon with its low, constant buzzing and John’s clean, proper suit with his well-shaved face and sad blue eyes.

 

And it all told Sameen what she had known for a while now. Nobody would avenge Root like John went after Quinn, like Fusco beat down Simmons. Nobody cried Root like they had grieved Carter, or any of the others they had lost during the years. She was buried under a fake name and no one would ever visit that grave. Even Shaw didn’t want to go. Root wasn’t there. Root was gone.

 

She held Reese’s stare as she knelt in front of him, forcing her erratic breaths to slow down and match his – his was deep and quiet, confident as he pulled off the safety on his gun. She wished her breathing was calm, too, but her instincts made it all the more harder to act, to fight against. Rusty, she felt, and so painfully slow.

 

When her knees touched the hard cement floor of the warehouse she placed her hands behind her back and angled her head towards the ground. She blinked, black shoes immobile in front of her before she closed her eyes and waited for John’s bullet to blow her brains out.

 

There, she waited.

 

For seconds, minutes, hours, she didn’t know. She waited for an execution that never came.

 

When she looked up again, John was gone. There was a trail of weapons behind her, and the documents she had been sent by Samaritan to retrieve. She left it there. It didn’t belong to her anymore.

 

She took the plane then, and returned to New York like iron to a magnet. There was a strange, comfortable silence as she paid for a sandwich and a coffee at the airport, and it followed her in the cab right up to the address she could never forget.

 

It was still night when she reached the rooftop.

 

Up there, everything was quiet even though a few stories down, the city hummed like it would on any other evening. She found herself a corner to sit in, cheap coffee still hot, cheap sandwich still cold. She stayed there as the sun came up, _painfully slow_ she thought as she ate and drank, eyes locked on the spot where Root had bled to death nineteen days before.

 

She waited until the sun had settled high before she moved again, rusty, so rusty.

 

After that night, she ran again, but it was different.

 

This time, she did things right, and she smiled when half a dozen of Samaritan’s agents shot her down like a dog between two garbage containers in a rainy alleyway, some seventeen days later. She wished it was night again, but it just seemed like it was always afternoon.

 

At least, she thought as their footsteps ran away, with sirens approaching and her body riddled with bullets, this time it really was a mess.

 

_When Shaw suddenly pushed her down on the couch, Root gasped before she pulled up and bit her shoulder harder. “I’m just saying it has nasty recoil,” she argued as soon as she finally found her breath again, but Sameen only fucked her harder, as if punishing her for criticizing her favorite gun. “It’s why I like it,” she answered, one hand pushing the hacker’s leg further up._

_“You like strange things, Sameen,” Root grinned._


End file.
